


Mask

by orphan_account



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-19
Updated: 2012-03-19
Packaged: 2017-11-02 04:51:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/365168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He sees Korra’s indifferent face look back at them as they start to walk out of the alley and he bites his lip.<br/>He is afraid but he is not sure why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mask

Mako knows to stay away from fights unless they’re in the probending ring but as he looks up at the snide face of the drunken spectator who punched him a moment ago, he’s starting to have doubts. He is alone as Korra and Bolin were still getting changed out of their gear, and he licks that blood that drips from his lips, even seeing that some of it was dripping from the offender’s hand and onto the pavement. The man’s friends take turns at kicking him in the sides, all of them drunk with power, power over a bender. Amon’s campaign has spread too much too quickly these past weeks and this is the evidence of it. He wants to fight back, he tries to but he could feel the bruises forming everywhere, and he starts to lose his grip on consciousness as the sound of the men’s laughter drowns his ears.

“Hey, asswipes!” Mako squints at her voice and groans audibly as he gathers enough strength to kick one of the men in the gut, hoping to leave him with at least a burn through his clothes in an attempt to stand up. The man hisses at his kick and falls away and he takes this chance to get away from them. He limps towards Korra, Bolin behind her catching him as he loses his unstable footing. He hears Bolin’s reassurances showering him while he stares at Korra’s back, seeing the planes of subtle, sinewy skin that he’s grown accustomed to seeing after training with her for so many times, her fists balled up at her sides but no sign of fire gathering in them.

“So your girlfriend’s saving you now, huh?” one of them spit out, his drunken eyes still aimed at Mako. He hears knuckles cracking as he breathes in Bolin’s shirt, the one he hurriedly packed earlier today, his brother still holding him the way a mother would hold a crying child. He isn’t crying, he is bleeding. “We’ve got you outnumbered, you wench.”

 _Don’t bend, don’t bend,_ he thinks, he almost whispers against Bolin, who’s looking around the alleyway, eyes alert and body ready to bend a barrier of rock to keep out any more of these drunks. The smell of second-hand cigarette smoke and alcohol is suffocating and he feels bile in the back of his throat, almost gagging. The next thing he hears are Korra’s quiet chuckle and the sound of punches being thrown, no flames crackling, or rocks flying into walls or water freezing; just knuckles and feet hitting the catching wayward attempts of punches aimed at her. He hears Bolin cheering her on, saying ‘one on the right’ and ‘slug him!’ and more words that he could only make less sense of.

He looks up, his vision clearing to reveal Korra standing over the unconscious bodies of his assailants, her hands shaking slightly at her side. Her body is posed triumphantly but when he sees her face expecting that same smugness playing at her lips, he sees none; only a mask of indifference that _he_ usually puts on. Bolin holds his arm while he attempts to stand up, and he gently pushes it away, plastering a forced grin on his and saying he’s alright when he straightens his bloody, dirty clothes out. He sees Korra’s indifferent face look back at them as they start to walk out of the alley and he bites his lip.

Mako is afraid but he is not sure why. Bolin doesn’t notice this as he runs straight past Korra at the sight of Naga’s barn.

“Why didn’t you fight back?” he hears her say in an angry tone as she falls back into step with him, her hand slipping securely around his waist as he starts to limp, and he curses himself mentally because he knows that they’ve got a match within the next fortnight or so. He doesn’t know why he didn’t fight back so he remains silent, watching Bolin ahead of them as he guides the polarbear-dog out of the shelter.

“Answer me, Mako. Why didn’t you fight back-” Her indifferent visage cracks, revealing the frustration and it pains him to see her like this.

“I don’t know, alright?” And he doesn’t want to know why he didn’t when he could’ve. She sighs and brings her other hand to flick him on the forehead lightly. He grabs it before she can pull away and brings it to his lips. She tenses at his touch but she doesn’t pull back. His gratitude didn’t have to be audible, and she understands that. He looks at her, his eyes tired but sharp nonetheless, staring into her blue ones. He smiles against her cold fingers when he notices red gathering at her cheeks and he pulls away, leaving her hand cold where his lips hadn’t touched.

“I’ll answer you when I know,” he whispers while he runs a hand through his mussed hair, his scarf dangling haphazardly from his shoulders. She scoffs and fixes it around his neck. He knows that she wants to say that he, the high and mighty captain of the Fire Ferrets, owes her a solid but it surprises him when she doesn’t say anything about it. He smiles and her, gratefully and she laughs, throwing part of his muddy scarf into his face.

“It better be worth the wait, then,” she whispers to him and he couldn’t help but smile even when his body is yelling bloody murder at him. He’s been doing a lot of that ever since he met her, and he doesn’t question it for once. She looks at him one last time before climbing on top of Naga, her hand out to help him as he tries to climb their ride home with the least possible effort. He hisses and groans, letting his head fall on Korra’s shoulder as the polarbear-dog moves at Bolin’s guidance.

“It will be, don’t worry,” he responds quietly before promptly falling asleep with Korra’s hair tickling his face.

 


End file.
